Road to Recovery
by anywhat
Summary: Nightwolf has decided its time to fix this. Non canon. Not slash
1. Chapter 1

NIghtwolf woke up on the floor, the cool glass bottle in his hand. The world alternated between clarity and a blur as he blinked. Fuzzy thoughts ran through his confused and aching mind. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened last night. Holes eating away at his memory, growing ever more frequent.

_Was I here…. last night? _

Nightwolf couldn't remember if he had been home when he started. It was a long, thirsty walk from the bottle shop to his apartment. The lancing pain in his head was growing worse as the time rolled on. He took a small sip of the calming liquor, and sigh as it soothed his brain and calmed his burning stomach. He took another, longer, deeper sip of the alcohol.

_There we go._

The world began to grow pleasantly fuzzy. The peace was ruined, however, when thoughts leapt unbidden to his mind. His mind saw the pride in the tribe elders' face when he had returned from the tournament, and he warmth in the woman he had been too busy to seek after's smile. Pain shot his heart as the images flashed. He fervently took a deeper sip of the alcohol, hating himself and the bottle and himself for becoming this… drunk. Pathetic drunk. But the drink was working its magic again, making him smile slightly and forget what had been troubling him… whatever it was.

Nightwolf took a long look around his small dark apartment, his thoughts coming slower and slower. He knew the blackness was coming, the wonderful time where he would not have to think or feel anything but contentment. It was coming soon.

Suddenly, standing in it's way, came that awful tide of self-loathing. It nearly blinded him for a second, making the bottle in his hand shatter against the far wall. The sight of the glass fragmenting, the poison it contained flowing down the wall, pleased him, but only for a moment. Only until he realized his ache for the fire liquid. He nearly cried.

A knocking at the door startled him. He dragged himself up and stumbled toward the door, trying his best to collect himself. He had become rather adept at hiding the slur and stumble, so he believed. He took a deep breath before he opened the door and assumed his calm.

_Johnny cage is at my door._

"Hey," Johnny said. The actor still looked the same as he had at the tournament, though Nightwolf hadn't really expected a major difference. It had, after all, only been about four years. He looked oddly out of place in the dingy hallway. Same cocky stance. Same glasses. Though at least now he wore a shirt. Nightwolf was aware the actor had been living in the same city as he, but the two never met. If truth be told, Nightwolf didn't want to face the actor, as little as the cocky man meant to him. Whenever possible, Nightwolf attempted to have as little contact as possible with anyone from before. However, it's kind of hard to avoid someone standing at your door.

"Hey," Nightwolf answered. He was in a bit of shock at this turn of events.

_What could Johnny Cage possibly want with me?_

He was about to find out.

"This is really awkward, but I need to ask you a favor," Johnny started in. Nightwolf nodded mutely.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Things haven't been going so well at my old place…" Johnny trailed off. It took Nightwolf a minute to process this.

_Johnny… wants to stay… with me…_

Nightwolf looked back at his small apartment, the bottles lying on the floor. All the bottles, lying on the floor, like bodies. The smell of the alcohol suddenly became terribly apparent, threatening to make him sick. Panic mode kicked in.

"No, no, you can't. You can't stay here."

Johnny peered at Nightwolf. He hated it. It was as if he was some strange insect Johnny was inspecting. He couldn't help squirming.

"Is everything okay?"

_Don't let him know. Don't let him know._

"Fine, everything's fine." Nightwolf said, and then cursed himself silently.

_Too fast._

"Whatever it is, I'll help." Johnny said. Nightwolf started. The complete honesty in Johnny's voice threw him. He couldn't believe anyone could be that, that open. That caring. He couldn't even remember knowing the man that well during the tournament, or the following invasion. Although they had been on the same side, they had rarely interacted, each preoccupied with his own set of worries. Well, Nightwolf had worries.

_Here he is, willing to help me… with anything._

Nightwolf looked back at the bottles littering the floor.

He would later say it was because he was buzzed, gut he knew he desperately needed help. Help out of this horrible condition. Something about the way the actor stared at him made his soul cry out, made him trust this man. He made a decision.

"Come in."


	2. Chapter 2

Johnny walked through the door and into the apartment. Waves of shame and embarrassment rolled through Nightwolf as Johnny looked at the ground and the bottles that lay scattered about. He couldn't see through the actor's mask what went on behind his face while he looked at the bottles, but he could imagine, and his imagination was bad enough.

_Why would I ever let him in? He doesn't even know._

Johnny switched his gaze back to Nightwolf, much to his discomfort. The ever-present sunglasses were still hiding his eyes, but he could feel the actors gaze on him, taking in every detail. Nightwolf looked around at anything that looked even slightly interesting. Belatedly, he thought about the incriminating bottle in his hand, nearly moving to hide it behind his back. _Too late now. _

All of this tension was beginning to make Nightwolf's buzz wear off, bringing him back to the reality that there was a man in his home, waiting for him to make the next move. Brain cells began to overheat.

"I… um… I have a bed." _A bed covered in whiskey. Shit._

"Oh, that's fine. I can handle the couch."

_Thank the gods._

Johnny walked over to the couch, dropping his bag next to it. The sunglasses came off, being placed carefully next to the bag. As he walked, Nightwolf couldn't help the flash of envy he felt as he observed the actor. The years since the tournament had apparently had no effect on the man. His physique was still remarkable, muscles clearly evident, even through his shirt. It was obvious why all the tabloids raved over him, time doing nothing but good to his already handsome face. Nightwolf couldn't help but glancing down at his own, rather less amazing body. The years of inactivity had taken their toll. He hadn't dared to wear his old vest in quite some time. His face, he assumed, had also not aged as gracefully as his new houseguest.

Johnny turned back around, expectantly looking toward his new roommate. Nightwolf's thoughts quickly turned back to the awkward situation at hand.

"Well," Nightwolf unconsciously shuffled his feet. "I guess this is, um, goodnight then." Nightwolf cursed his thick tongue.

"Goodnight then. See you in the morning." Johnny plopped down on the couch and sprawled out, slowly shutting his eyes about halfway.

"Do you want some blankets?" Nightwolf asked.

"Yeah okay," came the breezy reply. Nightwolf went to the small closet across from his room and got a few of the woven blankets stored there. Brief pain stabbed him as he thought of his old village. Pushing the thoughts down, he walked over to the couch.

"Here," he placed the blankets on the floor near the limp figure.

Johnny reached down and grabbed one, shaking it so it unfolded across his body. "Thanks," he said as he snuggled into the thick blanket. The sight of it calmed Nightwolf for some strange reason.

"Goodnight," he told the actor once more.

"Goodnight," Johnny answered.

As Nightwolf walked to his room for the last time that night, he looked back at the figure on his couch, feeling calmer than he had felt in far too long. It was insane, he reflected, the effect one man could have on him. As he swung his legs into his bed, his thoughts remained fixed on the man in his living room until he unknowingly stopped thinking at all.


	3. Chapter 3

The smell of pancakes greeted Nightwolf. The events of last night came rushing back to his throbbing brain. He stole a glance at his bedside clock and saw it was nearly ten thirty.

_Nothing to do but face it._

Nightwolf carefully got himself out of bed and ambled into the small kitchen, moving slowly so as not to disturb his very delicate stomach, as it was at the moment. He nearly smiled at the sight of Johnny at the stove, flipping what seemed to be the last of a large batch of pancakes.

_Wait, I have no pancake mix._

"Morning sleeping beauty,' Johnny greeted. "Made you a stack." He handed a platter full of pancakes to the grateful man and grabbed a plate for himself. The two sat down at the small table, already set with syrup and orange juice waiting.

"How did you make these?" Nightwolf sliced into his stack. "I had no mix."

"Oh I went out and got some ingredients this morning after my run," Johnny said around a mouthful of pancakes.

"You made these from scratch?" Nightwolf got a mouthful of the food and realized that was the only way to make pancakes this good.

"Yeah, I try not to use mix that often," Johnny poured some syrup on his and resumed eating.

"Well they're great," Nightwolf told him. Johnny's chest swelled a little.

"They're not fantastic, but yeah they're pretty good." Nightwolf smiled a bit around his meal, both at Johnny and at the fact that his hangover was leaving, thanks to the food. He took a sip of the orange juice.

"So how have you been?" Johnny asked in between bites.

"Oh, fine," Nightwolf casually answered. He was pretty certain Johnny had guessed at his addiction. After all, despite was most of the other warriors had thought, the actor was nobody's fool. Also, he noticed that Johnny had cleaned up while Nightwolf was asleep, a noticeable lack of bottles drawing his attention. "You?"

"Same old,same old," Johnny shrugged. "Did a couple movies. I'm in between at the moment."

"Oh," Nightwolf said. He wished he knew what movies Johnny had been in, but honestly he wasn't a big movie watcher. A TV was one thing he had decided he didn't need, and all of his excess money had gone toward buying more alcohol. He knew Johnny knew that he was completely oblivious to whatever Johnny's career had been. Silence reigned at the table for an uncomfortable minute.

"So where do you work?" Johnny inquired. Nightwolf inspected his pancakes.

"I, I'm currently in between jobs as well," he said. The truth of the matter was he had been fired from his last job, and recently. He hadn't yet gone out to look for another job, but that was about to change, he told himself. Not in the least because his rent was due in two weeks. "I'm searching for one, but you know how it is," he said vaguely.

"Yeah," Johnny replied.

They continued in silence for a while, the only sounds that of the silverware against their plates. "So, what are your plans for the day?" Johnny asked.

Nightwolf looked down at his rapidly diminishing stack of pancakes. "Well," he steadied his breathing. "Today is the day I stop drinking."

Nightwolf dared a glance at the man opposite him.

"That's fantastic." Johnny said warmly. Nightwolf felt his shoulders relax. Why had he even been so worried?

"Thanks," Nightwolf said.

"Any way I can help?" Johnny asked.

Nightwolf shrugged. The support Johnny could provide by just being there would be a great start, but there was really no way to phrase that without making the moment awkward.

"Whatever you feel like doing," Nightwolf answered.

"Alright," Johnny said and let the matter drop. The pair finished their breakfast in silence.

As they completed their meal, Nightwolf stood up. "I'll get the dishes," he offered.

"Kay," Johnny said and helped clear the table. When everything was put up, he disappeared into the living room.

Nightwolf had almost finished his dishes when Johnny came back in, wearing his jacket. "Hey, I'm going out. Wanna come?"

Leaving the apartment sounded good to Nightwolf. "Sure, let me get my coat." Nightwolf quickly went to his room and got his heavy coat. As he glanced in the mirror, he was again struck with the contrast between himself and the actor. He turned slightly, seeing if he looked any better from the side. No luck. The worn coat still hung in very unflattering folds across him. He walked back into the kitchen, noting how Johnny's jacket hugged his body in all the right places, simultaneously lending him style and elegance.

_I am not going to be jealous of how his jacket fits._

Nightwolf decided to go shopping later. And maybe start running with Johnny.


End file.
